


rain daisies

by serosoul



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, i swear they aren't actually gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 04:23:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2215704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serosoul/pseuds/serosoul





	rain daisies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ayabutt](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ayabutt).



It's raining the first time he slips inside the small café. Rose is tending to the orders tacked to the counter, coffee machine whirring beneath his hands, beneath the hush of summer shower. He draws out a tall stool, clattering, loud, deposits himself on it like the world is ending and when Rose turns around, limp hair flops into his eyes and he's dripping misery and complexities all over the cherry wood counter. Rose clears his throat, turquoise meets his gaze.

He takes his coffee black as sin, deflects offers of sugar and cream with little flicks of his wrist, refuses to dispel his brooding air by bothering with words. Rose understands, so he leaves him to his swirling expressions and thinning lips. He wipes down vacated tables instead, keeps his back turned and waves off regulars with a foreign emotion settling hot and heavy in his gut. A sneeze breaks his resolve, has him returning to his post and refilling the ornate mug without a word.

A couple of crumbled bills and the last dregs of coffee is all he leaves behind. Rose wipes the table down.

****

He returns with fat, roiling, clouds blanketing the city in his wake. But it's better than last time, he's better than last time, looks almost animated as he takes a seat by the counter and brushes his carefully styled bangs aside. Rose does a double-take, lowers his eyes when he remembers his manners and waits for his order. "Hey- uhm," Rose looks up with a curious tick, lips pursing as he waits for the next word, the next syllable, the next vowel or consonant, the tiniest sound.

"Sorry about last time. You make great coffee, by the way." It comes out in a rush, but then he slouches in his seat and looks so pleased and at-odds with himself that he has Rose exhaling noisily through his nose while fishing out his notepad and pen. "Don't worry about it, happens to the best of us." He reassures, falters, lets the click-click of his ballpoint fill the quiet between them. It stretches. Rose clicks his pen a couple more times for good measure. "Your order?"

The customer drags his eyes from Rose's face to the menu mounted on the wall behind the counter, Rose ignores the part of him that reads reluctance into the action. A heart-stopping concoction that tallies up as the most expensive combination possible is placed before him within minutes. Steam rises and Rose isn't sure it's something anyone should be paying for.

 

 

 


End file.
